It is no secret that I have been working on a novel for the past several months.  This journey is much more difficult than I ever imagined.  I have become emotionally invested in my characters and have a very difficult time deciding their fates, as I want to protect them from heartbreak and pain.  In a lot of ways, they have become like my children.  I am struggling with the direction of the novel because I am trying to follow my literary instincts instead of emotionally manipulating the outcome.  Since I have hit a wall of frustration, I thought I would share a short excerpt from the story.  I am hoping that if I release some of the protectiveness I feel for this story, I will free myself to write more effectively.  Plus, I just can’t get enough of Devin.  🙂  

Devin propped his long legs on the weathered pallet that served as a coffee table on his private dune-top deck. This was his favorite place in the world.  Well, second favorite, barely losing out to being in his bed wrapped up with a beautiful, voracious lover. He brought the chilled bottle of Buckshot Amber Ale to his lips and drained half the bottle, lost in his thoughts.

He had visited the Kindred Spirit mailbox that afternoon and enjoyed perusing the many entries that filled the journal’s pages. Most days he just skimmed the random musings but today his attention had been drawn to the sweeping lines and curves of an eloquent, cursive handwriting. He had run his fingertips over the pencilled words that flowed over the page like calligraphy. He was curious what the passage contained and imagined a flowery pledge of love. He was touched by the plea hidden in the artistic writing. This Genesee woman seemed to be lost but intent on finding a direction forward.  Devin knew better than most how helpless a soul could feel when discovering your life’s compass had malfunctioned. Devin’s desire to gain back control of his life had led him to Sunset Beach ten years ago, against the wishes and demands of his family. Somehow, the day he first crossed the pontoon swinging bridge, he knew he had found his way home.

In all his time on this island, he had never bothered writing or responding in the Kindred Spirit notebook. Today, he succumbed to the yearning to offer some solace to the mysterious Genesee.

Dear Genesee,

Our Kindred Spirit is still in residence here. At least that is what I tell myself when I feel there is no one else to listen to me. I hope you enjoyed your wine and were able to celebrate the breathtaking sunset yesterday. I must admit I find myself very skeptical of the everlasting love and soulmate quest. Perhaps the closest we ever come to that is another Kindred Spirit passing through our life … for a few weeks or even a few decades. Enjoy your return to Paradise, my forever home. I will raise a beer and toast you moving forward in life.  In Passing, The Wanderer

As Devin finished the last of his beer, he surveyed his island home.  For far too long he had been plagued by a sense of deja vu while walking through the dunes and down the barren beach at Bird Island. He often felt there was a deeper pull for his life to be anchored to this place but so far he had been unable to figure it out.  He set the empty beer bottle down, settled back in the wooden swing and let the ocean breeze and lapping waves of the low tide sweep away any lingering thoughts.